


For Love of the King

by WanderingAlice



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, M/M, Other, fic request, gold madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAlice/pseuds/WanderingAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo worries about Thorin, so he takes him some food. Deep in his gold madness, Thorin finds something he desires above even the Arkenstone.  Bilbo takes the opportunity to wake his dwarf from the sickness of the dragon hoard. </p><p>Or- I got a request for something I wouldn't normally write, took it as a challenge, and turned the idea on its head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bilbo

**Author's Note:**

> Queenoftheshire405 asked for this prompt: Thorin is deep in the gold sickness, and standing in the middle of the room staring at all the gold before him, when Bilbo comes down to try and get Thorin to eat something. That's when Thorin loses it, pushing Bilbo down onto the gold, climbing on top of him and starts to touch him inappropriatly. But it's not long before Bilbo starts enjoying it and soon they are aggressively fucking on the gold.
> 
> I rather turned the idea upside down, since I don't do smut or non-con, but I hope you at least somewhat enjoy the result. Fair warning, it was written over one day on my iPad, since my computer is still dead.

Bilbo was worried. Thorin had not been himself since he set eyes on that blasted treasure. He neither slept nor ate, devoting everything to the search for the Arkenstone, and demanding the others all do the same. Well. No more. Bilbo had had enough, watching his friend descend into this... this madness. It was time to do something about it, and the first step was to get him to eat. To that end, Bilbo reclaimed one of the old kitchens, cleaning it as best he could before taking what remained of their food supply and making his friends a fine meal.

The others all came when he called them to the table, glad of the break from the never ending search. Bilbo watched their haggard faces as they ate, and once again thought of just giving Thorin the jewel. But no, as Balin had said, it would simply make him worse. The love of dwarves was a jealous and possessive thing. This was beyond even that. And Bilbo had no idea how to cure it, but he knew he had to try. He would not sit idly while the dwarf he admired, respected, and maybe even loved brought ruin to all he had worked so hard to achieve. 

While the others were eating, Bilbo fixed another plate, one with food he knew Thorin most enjoyed. Then he quietly slipped out of the hall and went in search of the king. He found him, as always, in the treasure room. He didn't even look up when Bilbo entered, busy digging through the piles of dragon-gold to find his precious Arkenstone. Bilbo cleared his throat. 

"Thorin," he called. The king looked up, eyes immediately going to the hobbit's face. Bilbo took that as a good sign, and held out the plate of food. "Thorin, it's time for dinner. You can keep looking after you've had something to eat." 

Thorin stood, taking a few shaky steps towards Bilbo- away from the gold. But his eyes still held that manic gleam, he was pale and sweating, and Bilbo ached to see him like this. This was not his Thorin, but a creature of madness and greed. _Perhaps,_ a little part of his mind whispered, _this is how dragons are made. Not born, but created when a mortal falls so deep into lust for gold that they forget all that made them who they were._ It was a mad thought, but it frightened him nonetheless. 

"Bilbo," Thorin breathed, and something in his face eased. He slowly came closer. "My burglar." 

At any other time, the possessive way Thorin called him "my burglar" would have sent a pleasant thrill through Bilbo. Now it only gave him a shiver of fear. To distract himself, and hopefully Thorin, he held out the plate of food. "I made dinner," he said, voice small and lost in the massive chamber. 

Thorin brushed aside the plate, moving closer than ever until Bilbo was almost pressed against him. The hobbit tried to back up a step, but Thorin followed, backing him up against a pillar. There, the King Under the Mountain took Bilbo by the shoulders and gazed searchingly into his face. Whatever he saw there, he seemed to like it. 

"Mine," he repeated. " _My_ burglar. My Bilbo. You are the greatest jewel in my treasury." 

"Um, thanks?" Bilbo said weakly, unable to move or look away from those dark and brooding eyes. "Look, Thorin, how about having something to eat? You'll feel better after some dinner, I'm sure." 

Thorin's expression turned animalistic, and Bilbo grew frightened. There was no telling what Thorin would do in this state. 

"Oh no," the king said with a feral grin. "I can think of something much better to do right now." And then the plate of food was flying as Thorin picked Bilbo up and tossed him onto a pile of gold. The hobbit shrieked, convinced that Thorin was going to kill him, but then there were warm lips pressed against his, and all he could think was _Oh my,_ and then _oh._

If he was being honest with himself, and it was hard to be anything else with Thorin's hands wandering over his body and tugging at his newly-mended buttons, Bilbo had been wanting something like this for a long time. Perhaps since the Carrock, or maybe even before. He wanted Thorin to return his love, even as he convinced himself there was no hope. Many were the nights he had lain awake, thinking of Thorin's mouth on his, of those strong fingers against his skin, of giving everything of himself to his dwarf. He wanted this. Ached for it. But not like this. _Not like this_. 

"No!" With all his strength, Bilbo shoved, and either he was stronger than he knew, or Thorin had grown weak from lack of food and sleep, but the king was forced back. Bilbo scrambled down the gold, hand automatically going to the sword at his waist as his heart raced in a combination of desire and fear. Thorin looked mildly surprised, but started back towards Bilbo, determination in every line of his body. 

"Don't lie to me, my burglar," Thorin said. "We both know you want this." 

" _Not like this!_ " Bilbo cried. "Not when you are not yourself. Not when you aren't thinking straight." 

"I am entirely myself," Thorin stalked forward, intent clear. "My thoughts have never been more clear. You are mine. I must stake my claim now, so no other can have you." 

Bilbo drew his sword and held it between them, tip pointed right at Thorin's heart. "No." Bilbo's voice did not shake, though his hands did. "I am not yours." 

Thorin paused, puzzlement crossing his face. "But you are. My burglar. I have seen you watching me. I know where you have given your heart, and it belongs to me, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain." 

"No," Bilbo said again. He did not hear the noise behind him, or notice the rest of the company, who had been alerted by his initial shout. They stood just out of sight, watching with wide eyes, not understanding what was happening between their King and their hobbit. 

"No?" The King asked, thunder blooming in his face. Bilbo held his ground, refusing to back down. 

"My heart belongs to Thorin Oakenshield. And you are not him, O King Under the Mountain." 

Confusion flitted across Thorin's face, warring with the anger building behind his eyes. "Explain," he bit out. And, like a dam breaking, Bilbo obliged. 

"You are changed, Thorin. The Thorin I know would _never_ neglect his people, or put their lives at risk for one stone. He would not suspect his friends, or go back on his word. Honor means something to the Thorin I know. The Thorin I love. And he would never force himself on anyone, willing or no. He would do things right. This," Bilbo gestured to the jewel bedecked King, who stood now just at the end of Bilbo's sword, "this isn't you." 

"So you would have me when I had nothing, but not when I have a kingdom at my disposal?" Thorin demanded. He moved forward until the point of Bilbo's sword was pressed against his chest, rage building as he glared at the hobbit. 

"No," Bilbo said simply. "I would have _you_. Whether you have nothing or everything, I cannot help loving you. But the dwarf standing in front of me? I do not love him. I do not _know_ him." 

Thorin pressed forward, Sting's point digging into the chain mail over his chest, and Bilbo could see him fighting his own rage. Then he winced slightly, and Bilbo saw with horror that his sword was cutting into his friend's chest. He lowered his blade, unable to keep pointing it at Thorin, no matter how mad he had become. Thorin growled in anger, and Bilbo closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable. 

Just when he expected Thorin to grab him, Bilbo felt two strong hands scoop him up from behind. He opened his eyes to see Dwalin holding him tight, away from Thorin. 

"You dare?!" Thorin roared. "You would dare take what is mine?" 

"Bilbo isn't yours," Dwalin said, and there was an awful pain in his voice- pain at seeing his friend and king in this state. "He's his own person. I'll not sit here and watch you destroy what you were building together. Bilbo is right, you _are_ changed." He looked down, away from Thorin's mad eyes. "The Thorin I know would never reduce himself to this." 

"You would deny me?" Thorin's voice was low and dangerous. "Me? _I am your king_!" 

"You were always my king," Dwalin told him. Then he met Thorin's eyes, and Bilbo saw nothing but pity and sorrow in his gaze. "You are lesser now than you have ever been." 

Slowly, the other members of the company came to stand beside Dwalin and Bilbo. Bifur took the hobbit from Dwalin, freeing their warrior in case they should need to defend Bilbo against their king. He muttered something in khuzdul that sounded comforting to the hobbit, who was beginning to shake. This was wrong. All wrong. The company should never stand against Thorin. Thorin should never stand against the company. Damn this blasted, cursed, worm-hoard. 

"Leave me, all of you," Thorin ordered. "Before I kill you." 

"No!" Bilbo struggled from Bifur's hold. "No. Can't you all see what's happening here? It's this gold. It's cursed. It's got you all turning against each other! Well I won't stand for it. Not one moment longer. Here is your blasted Arkenstone!" He drew it from his coat, barely even noticing it's beauty. The thing was evil, and Bilbo had a good idea of what had to be done. The dwarves gasped, whether in surprise or admiration of the jewel, the hobbit didn't know. He turned, still holding the stone, and ran. Behind him, he could hear first Thorin, and then the others, start chasing after him. He had planned to give the stone to Bard that night, in an attempt to prevent the war. But now, he didn't know that anything could. The only thing he could do was make sure the vile thing could never hurt anyone else again. 

He ran to the forges, still alight from the battle with the dragons. The heat of dragon-fire. That was what he needed now, and he scaled the side of the giant vats of gold to stand on the top, holding the Arkenstone above the molten metal inside. 

"Bilbo!" Bofur called, skidding to a halt behind Thorin, who glared up at the hobbit. "Come down from there! You'll fall!" 

"No!" Bilbo called. "I have to do this. I can't watch this happen any longer." 

"Then you can jump in yourself," Thorin roared at him. "Or I will kill you when you come down!" 

Bilbo closed his eyes against the hatred in that voice, and was shamed to find he was crying. "If it frees you from this madness, I will gladly sacrifice myself," he said, and found that it was true. If he could give his life to see Thorin sane and whole once more, he would do it. 

"No! Bilbo!" several of the company cried out, and began to climb up after him. Thorin just stared at him, eyes hard and cold. 

Bilbo dropped the Arkenstone. It floated for a moment, already beginning to turn brittle and crack from the heat, before it sank beneath the surface of the metal and disappeared forever. Thorin cried out, but Bilbo didn't hear him. The ledge he stood on was small, and he began to lose his balance. He rocked forward, almost falling into the liquid metal, then pin-wheeled his arms, overcompensating. For one eternal moment, he teetered there on the edge. He looked over to see Thorin's eyes go wide, hear him shout his name, before he fell. Backwards, down and down to break against the stone floor. Only he didn't hit it. He landed on something not exactly soft, but softer than the ground. He felt his arm snap, and cried out in pain. But he did not die. Whatever he had landed on saved him. 

For one long moment he simply lay still and shook, the enormity of the last few minutes crashing down around him. He'd nearly been assaulted by Thorin, was saved by Dwalin, and then had revealed he had the Arkenstone, only to destroy it in front of Thorin in an attempt to cure him of his madness. Then he had nearly fallen to his death. And when he stood up, Thorin would probably kill him anyway for destroying the Arkenstone. This was how his adventure would end, his dreams crushed, their plans failed, and a war come morning that would likely kill his friends. 


	2. Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second chapter. Insomnia makes time for lots of writing. I hope you enjoy this story, and please let me know what you think!

Thorin knew something was wrong. He could feel it in the was his company looked at him, see it in the sudden fear that appeared in his hobbit's eyes whenever Thorin called for him. He knew something was wrong, but he did not care. All that mattered was finding the Arkenstone, the crown jewel of his grandfather's treasury. To that end he kept everyone searching long into the night, save for those who kept watch at the front gate. Then Bard came, and that bastard tree-shagger, and they wanted some of _his_ treasure. They had no right. None at all. So it would be war, but Thorin would be dead before he gave them so much as a copper. It was his. It was all his now, but something was still missing.

Then Bilbo came down to the treasure room, and he _knew_ what it was. Bilbo. He had been missing Bilbo. His burglar. _His_. No one else could have him. But Bilbo, of whose affection he had been so sure, said no. Said that he wasn't the Thorin he loved. His words confused Thorin, even as they angered him. He walked right up to the point of the little sword his hobbit held against him, anger and confusion filling his mind. He wanted nothing more than to throw the hobbit to the ground and have his way with him. The sword was no obstacle, it was more of a letter-opener than anything. But something else stopped him, something he couldn't name. Bilbo lowered the sword, and still he hesitated. What was wrong? Why...? 

And then Dwalin was holding the burglar, taking what was _his_ , and the rest of the company came to back him. The confusion faded in place of anger. How dare they defy him! And then the hobbit had the Arkenstone, the thing Thorin had been searching for, the stone he had desired almost his whole life. And instead of giving it to him like he was supposed to, the burglar ran off to the forges. 

Fear shot through him when he followed Bilbo into the chamber, and saw his burglar standing above one of the great vats of molten metal. Then fear was quickly overwhelmed by anger, when he saw the Arkenstone in the hobbit's hand, ready to be dropped into the fire. The heat of dragon-fire was possibly the only thing that could harm the Arkenstone, maybe even destroy it. There was a great roaring in his ears, and he did not even hear himself threatening Bilbo with death. The fear was still thick in his mind, fighting the anger, the mad jealousy, and it was winning. Whether he feared for the jewel or the hobbit, he did not know. 

Then Bilbo was falling, and he knew. Time seemed to freeze as Bilbo balanced on the ledge. The image would be seared into Thorin's mind forever- Bilbo's face frozen in panic, the cries of the company, and the absolute certainty that this was his own fault. The fear won over the anger, throwing it off in a moment of pure terror. He had put a stone ahead of his heart, and now he was about to lose both. Bilbo went over backwards, down the long drop, and as he fell he turned his head and looked into Thorin's eyes. Thorin would not be his grandfather, content to see his loved ones dead so long as he had his treasure. There were things far more important to him then that. One, in particular. Thorin dove forward, straining to catch Bilbo before he hit the ground. 

Bilbo landed on top of him, and they crashed to the ground together. Thorin heard him scream, and the fear spiked cold and painful through his heart. Then they were down, and Bilbo was so still. Thorin was afraid to sit up, for fear of what he would see. If Bilbo died because of his stupidity... It didn't bear thinking about. The room was deathly silent, save for the crackle of the fires. Thorin didn't dare breathe until he heard Bilbo take a ragged breath. Then he slowly pushed himself up so he could sit, his hobbit in his lap. 

Bilbo's eyes were closed, but there were fresh tears on his cheeks. Guilt weighed down on Thorin. Those tears were his fault. Twelve sets of feet shuffled near to them, but leaving a respectful- or cautious distance. It was more than just Bilbo he had hurt with his madness. He would have much to make right, and soon, but right now his priority was Bilbo. 

"Bilbo?" he asked softly, and the hobbit flinched. Good and bad. Good- he reacted, which meant he was alive. Bad- Bilbo should never have to be scared of Thorin. "Are you alright?" 

Slowly, as if he feared what he would see, Bilbo opened his eyes. When he saw where he was- whose lap he was lying in- they went wide. 

"Thorin?" He asked, unsure. The tremor in his voice cut Thorin like a knife, but he had nothing to blame but himself. 

"I'm here," he reassured his friend. "I'm right here." 

"Are you...?" Bilbo searched his eyes, looking, perhaps, for some sign of the madness. "I mean, is it really you?" 

"I am sorry," Thorin said, "that you must ask that question. I have... The things I have done are inexcusable. And I can only beg your forgiveness, and hope that my actions have not cost me your friendship." 

Bilbo's face melted into a relieved smile. "Thank the Valar. Destroying the stone worked." 

Thorin shook his head. "It was not the destruction of the Arkenstone that lifted the fog from my mind. It was seeing you in danger, and the knowledge that I had put you there." He looked up at the company gathered around them. "I am not my grandfather," he told them. "I will not allow myself to fall so low that I would see those I care about harmed." Some looked like they did not believe him. Others looked relieved. 

A small noise of pain escaped Bilbo, bringing Thorin's eyes back down to him. Guilt immediately shot through him, Bilbo's face was white and pained, and he cradled his left arm at an awkward angle. 

"Oin," Thorin called for their healer. "You'll be alright," he reassured Bilbo as Oin came forward. 

"My arm, I think it's broken," Bilbo said. Thorin closed his eyes against another wave of guilt. 

"This is my fault." 

"Yes," Bilbo agreed bluntly. "But you weren't in your right mind. It was the gold." 

Thorin shook his head. "That's no excuse. I should never have done as I did." 

Bilbo gritted his teeth as Oin examined his arm. "No," he said, when Oin pulled back and ordered someone to go get him supplies. "No, you shouldn't have. But you did, and that can't be helped." 

Thorin was left to ponder what that meant as Oin escorted Bilbo down to his makeshift infirmary. The guilt ate at him, consuming his mind almost as much as the greed before it. Horror filled him at what he'd done, and what he'd almost done. When he thought of what he had intended to do to Bilbo down in the treasury, he could scarcely stand to look at himself. Of all the possible things he could have done, taking advantage of Bilbo was the worst. He had intended on a proper courtship after the quest was finished, he had already started making the beads he would give Bilbo, but they lay unfinished in his bag, forgotten in his lust for gold. And now, after what he had done, he didn't know if he would ever finish them. Certainly he didn't deserve to court Bilbo. And he had probably lost his hobbit's trust, if not his regard. It would not be the only trust he lost because of this, such was the cost of madness. 

It was late, almost dawn, when Thorin finally made his way to Bilbo's room. He had already made his peace with Bard, but Thranduil was going to take some convincing. It could be done, though, if he worked at it hard enough. And work at it, he would. He would not risk destroying the kingdom he had just reclaimed, not over a handful of jewels. 

Bilbo was awake when he knocked on the open door, sitting up in his bed with a book open across his knees. Thorin winced when he saw his arm was in a splint. 

"Bilbo," he called, and the hobbit gestured for him to enter, "I came to see how you are." 

Bilbo's expression was torn between fondness and annoyance. "I'm fine," he said. "Oin said my arm's broken, but it will heal. It's not a bad break." 

"Good." Thorin sat in a chair by the bed, unsure of what to say next. "I, ah, I talked with Bard and Thranduil. There will not be a battle with them in the morning." 

"Good," Bilbo looked relieved. "I didn't want to think about you going out there and fighting. I don't know if I could have watched that." 

"You may still have to," Thorin said quietly. Bilbo sat up a little straighter, opening his mouth to ask a question, but Thorin wasn't done. "Gandalf has returned, just ahead of an army of orcs. We are preparing to fight them now. They shall arrive some time tomorrow. The elf-king's son reports another army of orcs coming from Gundabad." 

"Then we'll still have to fight?" Bilbo asked, 

"No," Thorin fixed the hobbit with a glare, only to relent as his friend shrank away from him. There was much to fix between them. "You will not be fighting. You will stay here, where it is safe." 

"But-!" Bilbo started to protest. 

"Please, do not argue this," Thorin said, holding up a hand to stall his words. "I did not come to speak of the coming battle. I came... To apologize. The way I acted was inexcusable. I have perhaps done irreparable harm to our friendship, something I greatly value." He didn't look at Bilbo as he spoke, or he would have seen those beautiful, wide hazel eyes trained on his face. Thorin was filled with shame and regret, and he would be spending years making it right, but just then there was one thing he needed to know he had not lost. "Worse, I fear I have lost your regard." 

"My regard?" Bilbo asked, sounding confused. 

"In... The treasure room, I attempted to... Force you. It is a great crime in my culture, made even worse by the fact that I have come to see you as... More than a friend. I had believed there to be a chance you could return my regard, but my actions today may have cost me that. I.... I find that I cannot live with myself if that is so." Thorin kept his gaze on his hands, too afraid to look up. He had faced down wargs and orcs without fear, but when it came to a Bilbo Baggins, he found that there were indeed things he was frightened of. 

"Wait, Thorin, are you saying... What are you saying?" Bilbo sounded more confused than ever. Thorin held back a sigh. Nothing was ever easy with his hobbit. 

"I'm saying I love you, Bilbo Baggins. I love you, and I'm afraid that what I did means that, whatever you might have felt before, there isn't any chance of you returning my love after what I have done." He blushed at saying it so plainly, but there it was. When Bilbo did not respond, he added softly "You said today that I had your heart. Please, I must know that I have not lost it." 

Thorin looked up when a small hand reached out and covered his. Bilbo was smiling at him, and there was so much emotion in his eyes that it hurt to see. 

"I don't think there's anything you could do that would stop me from loving you, Thorin Oakenshield. You don't get rid of me that easy." 

They spent what remained of that night together, until dawn arrived and Thorin went forth to battle. Bilbo ignored his orders and joined the battle despite his broken arm. Through luck, or skill, or some combination thereof, he was not hurt. Thorin nearly died in his fight with Azog, but Bilbo was there, and a well aimed rock distracted the orc just long enough for Thorin to run him through. Fili and Kili both lived as well, though not without injury. Because they had begun to build defenses in the night, far fewer people died as a result of the battle. The swift arrival of the eagles with Beorn and Radagast definitely helped matters, and soon all that was left was the mopping up of the few remaining enemies. 

Thorin spent the rest of his very long life trying to make up for what he had done, or nearly done, under the influence of the gold madness. He was a just and honorable king, but he often second-guessed himself, so it was good he had Bilbo at his side when the self-doubt began to trouble him. In time, Bilbo returned to the Shire for a visit, and came back with a young, orphaned, Frodo. Thorin was instantly taken with the child, and treated him as if he were his own flesh and blood. When the War of the Rings came, he and Bilbo watched and waited in fear while their adopted son marched into danger. When it was over, they welcomed Frodo and Sam into Erebor with open arms, and when the time came, all four of them journeyed west together.


End file.
